A Handsome Stranger
by HorrorZombabe
Summary: Set in Modern-Day Kirkwall, Marian Hawke has taken on numerous occupations, including working as a delivery driver for Mi-Ran's Fine Chinese food. On a delivery, she meets Fenris, a strange man with golden skin and white tattoos, whose mere presence causes her goosebumps. She finds out that Mi-Ran isn't simply a restaurant owner and Fenris isn't simply a handsome stranger.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Dragon Age. I make no profit from this work.  
**

_Oh, this is just great,_ Hawke thought as she looked down at her blouse. It was new, something her friend, Isabela, helped her to choose. It was low cut without being obscene and perfect for the night she had planned for after work. Somehow, while she was running her deliveries, one of the carry-out containers had sprung a leak, as had the bag it was carried in, sending a steam of duck sauce down the front of her white shirt. It was her last delivery of the night, and of course it was to the wealthier part of town. She couldn't exactly make the delivery as it was leaking, but having the order remade and having the customer wait may cause just as much damage. Not only that, but now she would have to change after work before meeting up with her friends at the bar.

In the end, she decided to look over the ticket to see if there was a phone number. She entered the number into her severely outdated flip phone (it just wasn't in the budget to replace right now) and dialed. It rang several times with no answer and Hawke was just about to close the phone when she heard a rough, "Yes?"

The sound itself send a chill down her spine and she struggled to find the words to speak to the person over the phone. "Hi, yes, um," she stuttered, "I'm from Mi-Ran's. Your order, well it started leaking on the way-"

"Is it still edible?" The stranger interrupted. There's the chills again.

"Well, I suppose, but it's-"

"Bring it anyways."

"But sir-"

"Just bring it." Click.

Hawke let out a sigh and looked over to the carry out bag on her seat. At least she had extra napkins to keep it from leaking on the interior of her little Cavalier. An old car, '96, but the engine ran fine though the body was falling apart. A dependable car, one she relied on to get to her various jobs and transport both her Mother and brother, Carver. Between the three of them, there was only the one car. It was all they could afford when they came to Kirkwall and she was the only one with a valid license, so the task fell to her. Duck sauce on the upholstry would just be icing on the severly deformed cake.

Hawke turned the key into the ignition and rolled down the window, pulling out of the empty lot and heading toward Hightown. As she pulled into the driveway, she realized that she delivered here before last week. And the week before that. It was the startlingly handsome man with the caramel skin and curling tattoos on his face and fingers (and Maker knows what else) she had oogled for several minutes before she finally handed over the carry out bag. Well, at least he had decided to order from Mi-Ran's again, but who knows if he will again after this.

She rang the doorbell and waited impatiently at the door, clutching the bag from the bottom through a handfull of napkins. _What a mess you got into, Mari,_ she thought to herself. The door opened and there was that painfully good-looking man. Tall and lean, dressed sharply in a dark grey collared dress shirt and black slacks, white hair and what she could see of his tattoos shocking against his bronzed skin. She stood awkwardly for a few moments before handing over the bag, making sure he cupped the napkins from the bottom to keep it from leaking.

"I- sorry. I don't know what happened." She managed to get out.

He flashed her a half smile before shifting the bundle into one hand and using the other to poke through the contents. "No harm done. Everything seems in order, just a little messy." His eyes narrowed on the trail of sticky sauce down her shirt. "Do you want to clean up?" He asked suddenly, gesturing into the entryway.

"I- no that's, thank you. I'm just about to head home."

"If you leave it, it will stain." Even saying something so mundane, his voice sent a chill up her spine.

"I. . . guess. Thank you," she said softly, following him into the foyer. He lead her to, an obviously unused, kitchen. The glass cabinets contained no china, and the pantry door was open revealing nothing, not even a crumb, within it's walls. She guessed that if she opened the fridge, the contents would be similar.

"Are you just moving in?" she wondered out loud as he set down the beg and started the water in the sink.

"No," he said simply. She stepped to the faucet to start rinsing off the sticky sauce. After a moment he added, "I wasn't planning on staying long. Borrowing."

"Oh." She realized that she was disappointed. Wait, she didn't even know him. He was just a handsome stranger - a handsome stranger that invited her into his home. And whose voice was thick like honey and sent chills down her spine. And whose proximity caused the hair on her arms and back of her neck to stand on end as goosebumps broke out over her flesh.

"I decided to stay for a while though," he continued, breaking the silence. "I should probably stock the kitchen at some point, but I . . . don't really know how to cook."

"You could always - you don't have a microwave!" She glanced around the kitchen. Though everything was emmaculately clean and stylish, she realized that it was old. The stovetop and ovens could be considered antiques.

"I don't. And I wouldn't know how to use it even if I did."

"You don't have a staff or anything? With a place-"

"No, it's just me." He had taken a step closer and she was suddenly scared of the situation. She was in a strange man's house. Alone. The estate was large and even if she screamed, she doubted anyone would hear her.

"I should. . . get going," she said nervously, flicking her fingers into the sink to shake off the excess water.

The stranger just nodded and lead her back to the door. She realized for the first time that he was barefoot and the tattoos curled over his toes as well. "Thank you," she said quietly as she exited.

"Wait!" He said suddenly and Hawke froze in fear. He wasn't going to let her leave. He was going to keep her here. He's going to kill her. She turned, her gazed fixed to her laced boots. "Your tip." He reached his hand out.

"No, I - I can't accept. I'm sorry about the mess."

He shook his head and flashed that half-smile again. "It is no worry. I'm sure you wish to get home."

She smiled nervously back and quickly walked back to her car. She noticed that he didn't close the door until she was pulling out of the driveway. _I need a raise,_ she thought absently as her fear subsided.

...

Hawke arrived at the Hanged Man after her other companions, dressed in a fresh shirt. As soon as she arrived home, she tossed the soiled garment in the wash and chose another - a simple black fitted v-neck tee to pair with her black skinny jeans and laced flat boots. She had thrown a simple black trench over it, her previous encounter still leaving her with chills. She climbed the stairs to head to Varric's suite and stopped dead as she heard a familiar voice.

"No, thank you, Varric. I've already eaten," he said. The dark-skinned stranger, no doubt about it.

"You seem to be in a good mood," she heard the stout man comment.

"The. . . adorable delivery girl I told you about. . ."

"Did you finally ask for her number?"

Hawke felt like her knees were about to give out. Her knuckles were white, gripping the banister tightly.

"Hawke!" Her friend Merrill called cheerily from behind her. Hawke nearly jumped out of her skin. "I don't think you've ever been last to arrive before," the smaller girl said absently as she ascended the stairs. Hawke found her legs and trailed behind her, eyes glued to her shoes again as they entered the room.

"Hawke! We were begining to worry that something happened!" Anders exclaimed, standing to greet her. His wavy blonde hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and his stubble brushed her cheek as he moved to hug her, but he at least looked cleaner than usual. Though a talented man - and handsome to boot - he lived in the tunnels of the subway system, taking care of sick refugees fleeing the civil war in Ferelden. No doubt, her family would have ended up in a similar situation if not for her Uncle Gamlen and the job provided by Mi-Ran. Anders didn't even ask for payment for his talents, opting to live a simple life full of hand-me down clothes and baked goods from his patients. At least his these jeans didn't have holes in them.

"Anders, I trust you are keeping out of trouble?" She asked the man.

He chuckled. "You mean, am I keeping out of sight of the Templars? They haven't been making their rounds far enough into the Undercity." Anders was in the Free Marches illegally. He too, fled Ferelden, but because of involvement in some government organization, he was unable to get full citizenship in Kirkwall without revealing his location. So he stuck to the Undercity and did his best to keep off the radar.

"Hawke, I want you to meet someone," Varric interrupted, gesturing to the slender man sitting beside him, one leg resting lazily on the other as he sipped at his wine. Though she tried to avoid it, their eyes locked and the tension in the room was almost touchable.

"Hawke," the handsome stranger said. "That is. . . an interesting name."

"I . . . it's Marian Hawke. Everyone just calls me Hawke," she managed to get out.

He stood, setting his wine glass on the table before outstretching his hand. "We've met, Varric, but not officially," he said to the man beside him. He looked at her and she slowly reached out her own hand. His fingertips were cold, but the touch sent electricity through her. "Fenris," he said, giving her hand a light squeeze instead of a shake.

"A hawk and a wolf," Merrill piped in. "How _dangerous_! And exciting!" She sat with an ungraceful plop and poured herself a glass from the pitchers she brought up. To Hawke's dismay, the only seat unclaimed was beside the strange man.

Varric leaned over the table, eyeing them both with interest. "So you two have met before?"

"Kind of," Hawke said nervously, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear. Varric's eyes darted between the two of them. Hawke was uncharacteristically staring into her mug, Fenris intently staring at her.

"I see," Varric paused. "Fenris, you never did say if you got the delivery girl's number."

Hawke flushed and buried her face in her beer mug. The handsome stranger chuckled. "I have it, but it was ill-gained," he admitted. "I will not use it unless she gives me permission."

Varric laughed. "I'm sensing a story there."

Hawke avoided his gaze as he spoke. "Apparently, something went wrong with the order and it began leaking. So she called me."

"I'm assuming nothing happened as you're here and not at home chatting her up," the stout man sounded disappointed.

Fenris chuckled and took a sip of his wine, crossing his leg over the other. Hawke noticed the tattoos traveled up his ankle. "She had a trail of sauce down her shirt from my leaking order. I felt bad, so I invited her in to clean up. I think she was afraid of me, but she accepted."

"I'm sensing nothing steamy happened," Isabela said with a pout, entering the room with her standard saunter. "Hawke, I thought you were going to wear the white shirt!" She accused, taking in her simple tee as she draped her trench over the back of the chair. Hawke immediately regretted the decision to remove the comforting layer.

Varric grinned. "Hawke, you still working for Mi-Ran's on the weekend?"

Hawke could only nod before downing the contents of her mug. She stood. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to need something stronger tonight."

"I'll go with you," the not-quite stranger offered, setting his now empty glass on the table.

As they left the suite, they could hear laughter following them. "Did I miss a joke?" Merrill pouted.


	2. Chapter 2

Fenris followed her silently, descending the stairs with an otherworldly grace. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was so poised, perfect posture, timing his steps with hers. Hawke clenched her fists. The goosebumps were back in full force.

"I need a shot of tequila. The good stuff! You know what, make it a double," she said to Corff as she approached the bar. He poured, spilling a little on the counter as he moved the bottle away, and set down a salt shaker and a lime wedge.

"And for you?" he gestured to her tattooed companion.

"Just another glass of Agreggio, thank you."

"You've got some expensive taste," Hawke commented.

Fenris only chuckled as Corff turned to retrieve a bottle. "I can't stand the. . . local brew served here."

"Yeah, it's pretty bad." Hawke agreed, licking the back of her hand.

"What -" He looked at her as she salted the wet trail. "What are you doing?"

"Have you never had a shot of tequila?" She asked in disbelief. He shook his head. "There's a process to it." She turned and leaned over the bar. "Hey, Corff! We're gonna need two more tequilas." Turning back to him, she gestured to her hand, still covered in goosebumps. _Of course, someone as elegant as him would never have done this, _she thought. "I'll show you and then we'll do one together. You wet the back of your hand, salt it. Lick the salt, take the shot, suck on the lime." She licked her hand again, tossed back the shot, and shoved the lime wedge in her mouth.

Corff slid the glass of wine to the man beside her and refilled her shot glass, filled another, and set out two more wedges. Hawke salted the back of her hand and watched as Fenris licked his. _There's those chills again_. She held out the shaker. He just held out his hand and she shook the salt over the back and she set the plastic shaker back on the counter. "Ready?" she asked, lifting her shotglass with the unsalted hand. He did the same and she tapped hers against his with a clink before a lick, shot, lime.

She muffled a giggle, nearly choking on the lime on the face he made. "There's a reason for the salt and lime," she chuckled. "Drink your wine." She went back to gesturing for the barkeep. The man just rolled his eyes at her as he stumbled back over. "I'm also gonna need a pitcher of. . . do I want long islands or. . . you know what, a pitcher of Blue Motha Fucka's," she said with emphasis.

"You know I have to make sure you're not drinking it by yourself, Hawke," Corff grumbled. The one night she did, she started a fight with several of the patrons, threw up on the cactus by the door, and had to be escorted home.

"I'm not, I'm not!" She insisted. "Fenris here is going to help me, aren't you?"

Her bronzed companion froze and stared, looking between her and the man now holding two bottles over a pitcher. "Is it going to be as bad as the te-key-la?" He asked, sounding out the sylables.

Hawke giggled, the swill she drank earlier already affecting her. Still did nothing for the chills he gave her. "You won't notice. It's sweet." She took the electric blue liquid off the counter with one hand and the glasses in the other. "Put it on Varric's tab," she said to the barkeep with a wink. The man grumbled under his breath.

"Allow me to carry something," he insisted, grabbing for the pitcher. She relinquished her hold and let him lead the way back upstairs. _Damn, that man has a fine ass, too._ she thought.

"Oh no," Anders moaned, shaking his head. "I thought we told Corff to keep her away from the blue."

"It's fine, Blondie. Just make sure she doesn't drink it all. Bad day, Hawke?" Varric asked as Fenris set down his load.

"Uh, Mi-Ran's been giving me a weird vibe lately. Other than ruining my new shirt, it hasn't been _horrible._"

"It's ruined?" Fenris asked, concern in his voice as he reclaimed his seat beside her.

"I knew it! Hawke's your delivery girl!" Varric said excitedly.

Hawke poured the blue liquid into her glass. "I'm not anyone's anything," she grumbled.

"Where's _my_ delivery, Hawke?" Isabela asked suggestively, leaning over the table to present her ample cleavage.

"If you wait long enough, maybe one day I'll have a package for you," she quipped back.

The Rivaini woman let out a sultry laugh. "Not soon enough, sweet cheeks."

"You're. . .?" The stranger began.

"IIIIII'm what?" Hawke drew out before taking a long draw from her drink.

Varric leaned over to the white haired man. "Did she have anything else before you guys came up? She looks a little. . . flushed."

"A vile liquid. Te-key-la," he made a face before sipping his wine. Varric just shook his head.

"It's not that bad," Hawke pouted. Anders grabbed for the handle of her pitcher and put it on the counter behind him. "Hey!" she complained. "That's mine!"

"And you'll get it back when you're ready for another," he assured her.

She made a face before turning to the tattooed gentleman. He had resumed his previous pose, legs crossed and elegantly sipping his wine. "You look so out of place here," she commented, not realizing what she said until the words left her mouth.

"Excuse me?" his eyes narrowed, offended.

"Um. . . I mean. You're really well dressed," she stuttered. "And you . . . you're just," she made a gesture with her hands.

"I'm just. . .?"

_Stop talking, Mari,_ her mind shouted at her. "You're just. . . beautiful."

He stared at her. Varric stared at her. Isabela just grinned, and if she weren't mistaken, Hawke could have sworn Anders growled.

"He _is_ really pretty!" Merrill agreed.

"See, I'm not the only one who thinks so," Hawke said with a chuckle.

Several awkward conversations later, Anders finally left and Hawke was able to liberate her pitcher. Isabela had found a man, a soldier on leave for the weekend, to have a private party with. Varric had crawled into his bed, and Merrill had long ago left for home.

"So, still thinking I'm the 'adorable delivery girl' or did I ruin that, too?" Hawke finally asked, chewing on the ice at the bottom of her glass.

Fenris looked at her. "Your shirt. . .is it really ruined?"

Hawke shrugged. "I dunno. Probably. I can't really keep whites clean anyways."

"I can replace it-"

"What? No, no. It's fine. I'm sorry about your dinner."

"It was still good. Excellent, really. I've. . . I've eaten much worse," he said. He looked lost for a moment.

"That's reassuring," Hawke mumbled.

Fenris chuckled. "So, your number. Do you mind if I save it?" he asked, toying with the rim of his glass.

"I. . . yes, go right ahead. Can I ask. . . how do you know Varric?"

He pondered for a moment. "Do you really want to know?" She nodded. "He got me papers. Into the city. He's found me odd jobs. I'm not here legally. The place I live. . ." He paused. "I'm squatting. It's not mine. I'm not borrowing or renting. Varric has some connections that are keeping people from asking questions. I owe him my life."

"Where- why," Hawke sighed and took a deep breath. "You're not. . . a murderer or something are you?" She asked jokingly. The intense look he gave her chilled her to the bone. "I need to go home," she said nervously as she set down her glass and gathered her trench.

"Hawke," he closed his hand around her wrist and she felt the electricity flow between them. "It was never by choice."

"You. . . you _killed _people," she hissed.

He didn't release his hold. "Tell me, when you fled Ferelden, didn't you fight your way out? You killed, too."

"I-"

"I won't hurt you, Hawke. But you will hurt yourself if you try to drive home."

"I'm _fine_," she roughly pulled her hand from his grip. She stumbled on her way to the door, but he was right there to catch her.

"No, you're not." He held tight to her waist, his breath on the back of her neck. She thought her knees would buckle under her.

"Would you love birds keep it down?" Varric grumbled, covering his head with a pillow.

"I'll take you home."


	3. Chapter 3

"I should just take a taxi," Hawke said as they stood outside the Hanged Man. "Or walk. I'll walk, I really don't live that far."

"You shouldn't go alone," Fenris insisted,"There's been reports of attacks."

Hawke shot him a glare. "I can take care of myself just fine, thanks."

"Hawke," he sighed. "Just be careful. And. . .call me or send a text when you get home. Please."

"I'll be fine, Fenris. Have a good night," she gave a wave as she walked away.

"Goodnight," he mumbled behind her, waiting a moment before heading off in the opposite direction.

In truth, she really didn't live terribly far from the Hanged Man. It would take a few shortcuts through a parking lot and an alley, but she could get home in less than twenty minutes. She took a quick glance behind her, noticing Fenris waving down a taxi. She went on to the end of the street, pressing the button for the crosswalk going right. She waited and the taxi Fenris flagged down passed through the intersection and he gave her a slight wave as he passed. She thought about returning it, but the car had already passed before she lifted her hand. She crossed with the light, fingering the knife in the pocket of her trench coat. It _was_ dangerous in Lowtown at night, and she sometimes did run into trouble. It was by sheer luck that she got out of it each time without exposing her talents.

She reached the next corner, crossing left and through the parking lot of the market. She slipped behind the building and through the alley, past the loading gate and passing the autopart warehouse. She was just passing the back door of Mi-Ran's when she heard someone approach. She quickly folded herself in the space between the brick wall and the dumpster, hoping her presence would go unnoticed.

She watched as a figure approached the back door of the restaurant. She kept her hand around her switchblade, just in case. The person knocked on the door. _Who's visiting Mi-Ran at three in the morning?_ she thought to herself. When the door opened and the light from the restaurant illuminated the alley, she noticed the figure was Athenril. She was one of the distributers Mi-Ran ordered from. _What in the void is going on? _

Mi-Ran talked to the woman for a short eternity, Hawke's back aching from crouching behind the dumpster. The door closed behind Athenril and Hawke waited a moment before ducking out from behind the dumpster. She kept periodically glancing back to the door and didn't notice the group at the other end of the alley until they shouted at her. "Hey girl! What'cha doing out here?"

Hawke stopped dead. The group - maybe five or six men- was running toward her. She panicked and looked around. She slipped in the narrow space between two buildings, barely fitting through by turning herself sideways. She shuffled through and stifled a laugh when one of the men attempted the same, not even able to get his meaty arm through the gap. Free from the buildings, she ran across the street and through someone's garden, ducking under their porch. She watched as the men ran from around the other side of the building through gaps in the wood. They split, patrolling up and down the street. _Oh Maker, I'm stuck here._

Her pants pocket vibrated and she quickly pressed the button on the side of her phone to keep it from ringing. WIthin seconds it vibrated again. She quickly pulled it out, covering the light with her palm before flipping it open. She said nothing, just let the call go on in silence.

". . .Hawke?" His voice asked tentatively on the other end. He called her. He called her to make sure she got home. Hope flooded her.

She whispered, "I'm stuck."

"Stuck?" He echoed. One of the men passed in front of the porch and she stilled. "Hawke?" Fenris asked. The man disappeared into an alley and his comrades were split at opposite ends of the block.

She breathed out. "I need help," she whispered quietly.

"Hawke, I can't hear you. Where are you? Is everything alright?"

She snapped the phone closed to end the call and opened it again to type out a quick message.

**There's men following me. Im hiding under someone's porch but they're not leaving the street.**

Hawke held the phone to her chest waiting for a reply. She peered through the cracks. The men still paced down the street, but she noticed that the man that went into the alley was still gone. Her phone buzzed and the sound was so loud she nearly dropped it. Again, she used her hand to shield the light.

**Where are you?**

She sent back the street name, but told him she had no idea what house number, but she could see the auto parts warehouse from where she was hiding. A few moments later, she recieved a reply.

**Stay hidden.** **I'll be right there.**

She made a silent prayer, hoping that he would arrive before the men found her. She's seen some of these men before - the needle with the blood drop tattoo on one man's beefy arm was a dead giveaway. The Sharps. They were theives for the most part, but on occasion they were hired as mercenaries. Likely, they were hired to keep people out of the alleyway. _They're probably armed, _she thought with a chill.

They were, and currently made a show of it. "Come on out, girly," one taunted, pacing the street while brandishing his handgun. "We know you're still here."

Hawke stayed still, keeping her eyes open for the missing Sharp. Several minutes passed and a Kirkwall Guard patrol car pulled up, lights blazing. The men scattered, but she remained where she was.

"Hawke!" Fenris yelled, climbing out of the passenger side. "Hawke, where are you?"

She slipped her phone back out of her pocket and sent him a quick text.

**I'm here. I can see you, but one of the men disappeared a while back. I'm scared.**

She watched as familiar face - Aveline, a women that helped her flee in Ferelden - stepped out of the driver's side. She shut off the lights and stepped around the car, hand hovering over her holster. Fenris glanced at his phone and said something to the woman, but Hawke couldn't hear it. His hand reached under his shirt and pulled out his own handgun. Hawke cringed. _Did he have that on him all night?_

The two separated, walking across the front yards of several houses. She made a slight knock on the wood of the porch and Fenris' head immediately turned in her direction. He paused again and listened. She made another tap. He ran toward her, his long stride carrying him to the porch in a flash. If she didn't know any better, she'd say that the markings on his chin and hands were. . . glowing. _No, that can't be right. I'm seeing things._

"Drop it, man." A rough voice ordered as Fenris approached. _Crap._

She watched as Fenris bent to set his handgun on the ground. The man crossed past the gap she entered her hiding place, gun raised. Her eyes searched out Aveline, but she was no where to be found.

The man laughed. "Girly gave us the slip. Tell me where she is and you're free to go."

"No."

"I'm not messing around, man!" He shouted, moving the arm holding the gun to emphasize. "You've got three seconds to tell me where she is. One."

Hawke crawled as quietly from her place as she could. The man was a few steps from the entryway to her hiding place.

"Two."

Still, Fenris said nothing. _Don't risk your life for me!_ her mind screamed. But he looked calm, standing before the Sharp with an amused grin.

"I'm not fucking kidding! I'll shoot!" The man barked.

Zap.

He fell to the ground and Hawke shuffled to pry the gun from his hand. She looked up at Fenris, but he was backing away from her.

"You're-" he started. Hawke only nodded. "You should be-"

"Locked up? Look around you, Fenris. These men with guns are more dangerous than me."

"Hawke! Thank the Maker!" Aveline spoke, relieved and heading toward them. "When Fenris said-" She stopped and looked at the man at the other woman's feet. "Hawke, you know better!" she hissed.

"He's not dead," she whispered back. "Just knocked out. He was going to shoot Fenris."

"I would have been fine," he assured her.

"He was aiming for your head!"

"We can cover it up, easy enough. Check his back for marks. Make sure you didnt leave a burn," Aveline instructed. "Then let's get you home. We'll file the report in the morning."

Hawke lifted the Sharp's shirt, and satisfied their was no evidence of her magic on him, she allowed Aveline to lead her back to the car. "You need to be more careful with your magic, Hawke," the guard scolded.

"I don't understand how guns and tasers can be legal and the energy I hold in me is not," she mumbled.

"Fenris?" Aveline questioned and Hawke turned to look back at him still standing over the fallen Sharp. "Come on, let's get you home."

"I'll call a cab," he said, tone dismissive.

"Nonsense, you're near the station. There's no need,"

"I'm not getting in a car with a _mage_," he spat at her.


	4. Chapter 4

Fenris eventually caved to Aveline, reluctantly claiming the back seat of her squad car. The short car ride the rest of the way to Uncle Gamlen's place was quiet and tense. Hawke watched Fenris using the side mirror, but he just stared out the window, elbow against the door and head in his hand.

"You're not. . . going to turn me in, are you?" Hawke asked as Aveline turned onto her street.

She saw Fenris flinch and close his eyes. "I have not decided."

"I. . . see."

"Hawke uses her talents only when necessary. She's saved my life," Aveline added.

"Don't," Hawke insisted. "I don't. . . just don't. This whole thing. . . it's been a curse. Goodnight. Thanks for coming for me." Hawke climbed out of the car as soon as Aveline pulled up in front of Gamlen's, slamming the door behind her. The building was easily the smallest on the block - a tiny house with a porch, only one bedroom. The paint was peeling, screen door hanging on one hinge, and steps leading to the porch crumbling. It wasn't much, but it was better than being homeless (though, not by much). She entered the house as quietly as possible, careful not to wake her family.

. . .

"Hawke is a good person," the guard told him. Fenris just let out a grunt. "She was trying to protect you, you know. She doesn't know about your skill."

"She's still a mage!" he snapped at her. "Give them a little power and they'll-"

"Is it any worse than giving a man a gun?"

"A man with a gun cannot use your own blood to control your mind," he retorted.

"Ah, but he _can_ use your fear of death to control you."

"I won't turn her in unless she proves to be a risk. She is not a blood mage?"

"She would never. But. . . I have to let you know, we know others who are mages as well. Not everyone uses magic like you have known it."

Fenris' eyes narrowed. "Great, escape one nest of mages to fall into another."

"Hawke saved my life, Fenris. She did what she had to in order to save yours as well-"

"_Venhedis_! I was _fine_, I had everything under control!" He shouted at her.

Aveline shook her head, keeping her eyes on the road. "She saw you, a man she barely knows, staring down the barrell of a gun for _her_. It doesn't matter if you had it under control. She thought you were in danger and she did what she could to keep you alive." The both of them remained silent for several minutes as Aveline hopped on the freeway to Hightown. "Hawke, she lost her sister when we were escaping Ferelden. The . . . plague that was spreading, it turns people into monsters. They have no regard for human life. Her sister was a mage as well. My husband, Wesley. . . he was a templar. We were traveling together to escape. She hesitated to show her magic for fear of him and lost her sister because of it. Since then. . . any time she sees someone's life in danger, she doesn't hesitate. If it weren't for her, I would not have made it out of Ferelden alive." She exited the freeway and waited at the stoplight. "She has regard for human life, she wouldn't waste it. The spawn. . . they were once human, but the plague changed them into something _else,_ so I don't count that. They were beyond saving. After a week of traveling, Wesley. . . he had gotten the sickness. There was no way to stop it. Hawke. . . she took the burden of. . . of. . . so I wouldn't have to. She wouldn't let me hold the burden of killing my husband. She. . .got us all into Kirkwall. Her family and myself. She worked her ass off to pay the debts that got us here. I owe her more than you can imagine. I beg you, please don't turn her in."

Fenris sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I. . . don't approve of magic. If she has the control you speak of. . .she will be safe."

...

Hawke gathered her bed bundle - a pillow and one of Nana Amell's quilts - and lay herself behind the sofa currently containing her uncle. Before plugging her phone into the port by the lamp, she set an alarm to wake her up in three short hours. She would have to shower and go back to the Hanged Man to pick up her car before dropping Carver off at school and taking her mother to city hall (no doubt, where she will once again petition for the rights to her family home), before heading to work. During the daytime, she generally worked for Sol at a pharmacutical lab located just outside of the mage's 'Academy' - the Gallows. For the most part, the Gallows was a prison. No one leaves and the security is so high that no one really enters either. Hawke had a sneaking suspicion that Sol himself was a mage, not that she would tell anyone. The pay at the lab was good, and it was fairly easy work - though he would occasionally task her to retrieve supplies from the Dalish reservation at Sundermount, and those people could be quite difficult to deal with. In the evenings, she would bartend at the Bone Pit. It was a hotspot for Ferelden refugees and they tended to have trouble with a gambling ring known as the Dragons who would come through occassionally and take over the place. Since Hawke drove them out the first time, they hadn't been back and the Pit's owner upped her pay to make sure they were kept out. Hawke herself couldn't be considered intimidating, but when she brought her enterouge and a little spark at her fingertips (carefully disguised with a taser gun when the guard came to file the reports), many a man would be hard pressed not to shit their pants on the spot. Though it was a seedy place, she made decent money. She only hoped that the unwanted leers and occasional grope would be worth it eventually.

It had taken a year to pay off the debts that had gotten them into Kirkwall. Mi-Ran was a connection of her uncle, some man he owed money to or something, who paid the bribes to get their papers filed at the Embassy within a day. In exchange, she had worked for him. The work was simple enough, make deliveries for a year with no pay. At least her tips kept her family fed, for the most part. She was pretty sure that she wasn't _only_ delivering Chinese food- Mi-Ran seemed like a seedy character -but she never asked questions and never pried. After the night she'd had, she was certain the restaurant was a front for something _else, _but she couldn't say exactly what for. After her year of working for the man, he kept her on for the weekends in a paid position. Perhaps it was time to look into another job.

Hawke bundled herself in the quilt and had just rested her head on the pillow when she heard her phone vibrate. She flipped it open.

**I apologize. I let my prejudices get the better of me.**

_Damn right you did._ She sent a quick reply.

**Goodnight, Fenris. We'll talk another time.**


End file.
